( I work at a department store that is usually really easy about returns, even if you don’t have a receipt. This customer comes up to my register with 2 things of plastic wrapping for lamp shades…)

Customer: Hi, I bought these 2 lamps last week and I noticed that they have a different price, but they are the same exact style and model.

Me: Oh, uh okay… (I looked at the price tickets for each, it was a 3 dollar difference, one was 19.99 the other 16.99) um okay one second I just need to ask my coordinator about this…

( My coordinator comes over and looks at the packaging and has her scanner and realizes that they have different style codes, so the price difference is wrong….but not in the way the customer thinks… the 16.99 is wrong. so she actually owes us the 3 dollars instead of the other way around.)

My Coordinator: I’m sorry so you wanted to get the difference back?

Customer: yes, that’s right, I was overcharged

Coordinator: actually you were undercharged, the tickets are different but they’re both supposed to be 19.99.

( The customer got super confused and argued for a bit with her until I said…)

Me: This ticket (16) is the wrong ticket, they’re both supposed to be 19

Customer: Oh, okay see that makes sense, you ( coordinator) were confusing me.

She left with her plastic wrapping and did not pay her outstanding 3 dollars

(This happened some years ago. The way my school system is set up, there are five elementary schools, one middle school, and one high school. Middle school at the time starts at sixth grade and they just kind of dump everyone together into classes and don’t really start sorting the smarter kids into their own classes until seventh grade. This means I’m in classes with some kids I really don’t mesh well with. One of the guys decides he has a crush on me a few months into the school year. He’s a dumb jock type who really plays into the stereotype. He has no respect for our teachers, he’s constantly disrupting class, and he and his friends seem to only talk about sports. Something I very much hate. My only break from this group is when I go to band class and Spanish class. I otherwise ignore them since I want nothing to do with them, that is until he tries unsuccessfully to get my attention. After that, he gets a cheerleader that I am most definitely not friends with but who is also in the same classes as us to talk to me.)
Cheerleader: (My name), (guy) has a crush on you.
Me: He does?
Cheerleader: Yes. You have to call him.
Me: Why?
Cheerleader: Because he has a crush on you and it would be rude to ignore him. He’s on the basketball team after all.
Me: So?
Cheerleader: Look, here’s his number. You better call him.
Me: Why? I don’t like him. He’s loud and obnoxious and crude. He has done absolutely nothing to make me think I want to spend any of my time with him outside of school.
Cheerleader: He’s not loud and obnoxious.
Me: Yes he is. I’m not gonna call him.
Cheerleader: You better, or you’re gonna make him cry. You don’t want to make him cry, now do you?
Me: I’m not gonna call him. Especially since he doesn’t have the guts to ask me himself.
Cheerleader: Just call him.
Me: Whatever.
(I don’t call him that weekend. On Monday during lunch, the cheerleader hunts me down and confronts me.)
Cheerleader: Why didn’t you call (guy)?
Me: Because I said I wasn’t going to call him.
Cheerleader: You made him cry! He’s heartbroken. If we lose the game this week, it’s your fault.
Me: I don’t care about any game.
Cheerleader: Make it up to him. Call him tonight. You still have his number?
Me: No, I trashed it. Don’t bother giving me another copy. I’m still not going to call him.
Cheerleader: You have to!
Me: No, I don’t!
(And that is how I earned the reputation of being “undatable” all throughout middle and high school. The cheerleaders made the rest of my middle school experience miserable, but it wasn’t so bad once I got into seventh grade and was placed into the classes for the smarter students, and none of those kids were in the same classes as me anymore. They still tried to get to me in high school, but by that point, I was firmly in the band program and honor classes where they couldn’t touch me. I believe the guy ended up graduating a year behind me since he failed too many classes and was kicked off the basketball team our freshman or sophomore year of high school.)

I’m the Original Poster of Jello Comes In Strawberry, Orange, Pain, And Grape.

I wasn’t very clever when I was 5 years old, and this story will always be proof of such in my family.

We had gotten a cat the year before, and for whatever reasons cats may have,, she came into the bathroom while I was having a bath. I thought that cats liked water, so I picked her up and dropped her into the bathtub with me. The cat reacted in the way you’d typically expect from a suddenly soaked feline, and was probably far more freaked out than I was.

Cats hold grudges, so from then on, she’d let me pet her, but only as long as she wanted, then she’d turn and gnaw at my fingers, or when she was jumping out of my lap, extending her claws.

We had her for almost 20 years, and I’d like to think she eventually forgave me, as my mother and myself were the only two people she allowed to give her medication in the last year of her life.

So, I work in a fairly large store and have been there for about seven months. I take the evening/night shift because of college classes, so I see my department manager minimally. One day I see her and we’re discussing displays and the work I need to do when she gets off the clock when an angry customer walks up to us. He was a gruff, kind of scraggly looking older gentleman who was taller than both of us (I’m short compared to most of my make coworkers and my manager is shorter than me).

Customer: (snaps to get our attention) Excuse me!

Me: Hello sir, how can we help you today?

Customer: I can’t find my trolley anywhere! I left it at the end of an aisle with my products in it while I looked on the aisle, and when I went back, it was gone!

My Dep. Manager: I’m sorry about that sir, what products did you have in the trolley? Maybe it was moved.

Customer: (Explains the products he had, like fishing gear, tennis balls, a basket, and a few random things)

Me: Alright sir, we’ll go look for your trolley. I apologize again for this, hopefully we can find it for you.

Customer: (he huffs angrily at us) I hope so too! Do you people make it a habit to steal customers trolleys?

My manager and I look at each other like, “Wow, did he actually accuse us of that?” He then proceeds to walk down the main area while we just ignore it and go to look for his things. Not even a minute later, my manager goes down to then end of the aisle he said he was on to find his products sitting in the basket on the floor.

Some customers in the store decide to take other people’s trolleys and unload the products onto nearby displays, which we have to clean up and return to their home areas frequently. She picks it up and just shakes her head before I take it.

Me: I’ll go see if I can find him, he couldn’t have gone too far. I think he was going to find those products again.

I walk across the store to where his original products came from, walked up and down the main aisle looking for him, and come back. I hadn’t found him, so I told my dep. manager, who asked an assistant manager if he’d seen someone looking for a trolley.

Just after he says no, my d.m. sees the customer walking back with a new trolley and some of his products. The three of us go to him and explain the situation, that we found his products and sometimes other customers take trolleys.

He starts acting nice to us and thanks us for finding his things, and we offer to put back the extra products he picked up. He then leaves the area to go pay, and we all just look at each other.

D.M.: Well, he was a jerk.

Me and Assistant Manager: Yep.

I’m at work and bored, so I text my mom, something we do often just for the heck of it.

Me: I’m bored.
Mom: Do something.
Me: Thank you, Captain Obvious!

Words of wisdom from that woman, I swear.